My Husband Errol Flynn
by Sheila Bryant
Summary: Emily & Richard again. But this time less smutty. I thought I'd leave the rest to your imagination for now.


_**Disclaimer  
**__Emily and Richard, and all other recognizable Gilmore Girls characters belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and the WB.  
__I use these characters without permission, but am not making any profit from the copyrighted characters.  
__No infringement is intended._

* * *

She didn't like to go to bed angry, but today she couldn't help but reflect on the events of the evening... 

_It had taken her some days to figure out what to do about it.  
She had held her tongue, hoping that he'd just look in the mirror, see that it was wrong and do something about it.  
That was almost a week ago.  
Today was Friday and of course Lorelai had commented on it during dinner. But still he had defended himself, brushing it off.  
She knew she had to bring up the topic and when the girls had left she thought it would be the best opportunity._

_"Richard, please shave off that mustache." She had been waiting until he put down his book before she started. Now she watched as he took off his glasses and looked at her.  
"But I like it," in his tone lay a mixture of defense and dismay.  
Emily tried to sound as calm as possible, "Well, I don't. I think it looks ridiculous." She picked up her Martini glass and got up to refill it.  
Putting away his glasses, he raised his eyebrows, looking down at the closed book on the table before he stood up. "It will look better once it's fully grown."  
She rolled her eyes behind his back, deciding not to get another drink but just leave the empty glass standing on the drink cart. Turning around she watched as he picked up his book, "And how long is that suppose to take?"  
"I'm not sure, a few weeks, maybe?" With that he walked towards his study without looking back at her._

_Did he just sound annoyed? How she hated it when he was like this, scolding her as if she were a child. And how could he walk away from her in the middle of a conversation anyway?  
Emily followed him into his study, "You don't mean to tell me that you're going to run around looking like someone who's sleeping under a bridge for the next couple of weeks, do you!? What's next? An earring? A tattoo?" She angrily crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes shooting daggers at his back while he put the book back in its place on one of the higher shelves of their huge mahogany bookcase.  
He turned around and raised his eyebrows, "Now that you mention it."  
"Don't try to be funny, Richard," she spat out.  
"Well, you seem to have made up your mind about me already, so..." he looked down at her, his arms crossed over his chest, head held high.  
"...so what?" she tried to tame her temper, sighing in defeat. "Don't do this to me, Richard, I beg you." Emily knew that she wouldn't win anything if she'd demand that he shave it off.  
"Do what?" He decided to be stubborn.  
She took a deep breath but her anger got the better of her, "You know what I mean. You look ridiculous and the girls are going to start talking behind my back about how I could possibly let you run around like ...," she simply gestured towards his face, "like THIS."  
Richard raised his voice, "Emily, I'm not going to shave it off."  
"Fine!" with that she turned and walked out of his study, slamming the door behind her._

Now she lay here, alone in their bed, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the large poplars outside her window, which the moonlight cast on it, dance around in silence.  
Her husband was still sitting in his study. She was sure he wouldn't come to bed before he was certain she was already asleep.  
After all, he was as stubborn as she.  
Taking in a deep breath, she sighed. How could he not see what everybody else saw?  
She didn't even want to think about what his business associates thought of him when they looked at his face nowadays. Emily rolled her eyes, pulled up the comforter around her and turned her back to the window, trying to find a more comfortable position.  
A few moments later she opened her eyes again, huffing in frustration.  
Pushing her left arm under the pillow to prop it up a bit, she snuggled her head against the cool material in an attempt to calm herself down enough to drift off to sleep.  
Just when she felt sleep taking over, a small sound made her snap back to consciousness. Her closed eyes were hit by a faint beam of light coming from the hall when the door was opened a crack.  
'Richard,' she thought, not moving, pretending to be asleep.

Her husband quietly slipped into the room, wincing when the door hit its frame harder than intended. Looking at the still form lying on the bed, he stood perfectly still and held his breath while he tried to make out her features in the dark, hoping he hadn't woken her up.  
He couldn't make out much of her face in the dim moonlight but her light silk pajamas reflected enough of it to let him see that she didn't stir.  
Watching her for a minute, he slowly released his breath.  
How he hated it to fight in the evenings.  
It took him off balance to have to lie next to her, knowing that she was mad at him. Without kissing her goodnight.  
He slipped into the bathroom and changed into his pajamas in the dark, cursing under his breath when his arm hit the tiled wall in the process.  
Searching for his toothbrush was a bit more of a challenge but he didn't want to turn the lights on, fearing it might awaken his wife. A triumphant grin spread across his face when he finally found what he had been looking for.  
Touching it carefully he reasoned with himself weather or not it was his or maybe Emily's, finally decided that it didn't really matter and went ahead.  
Somehow the glass toothbrush tumbler slipped out of his grasp when he put it away, a loud clang ripping through the night air, making him close his eyes instinctively.  
Opening his eyes again, Richard was glad to find that it had survived its fall unclipped, picked it up and put it back in its place, trying hard not to make another sound.

She opened her eyes when she heard a thud, then him cursing quietly.  
Carefully raising her head, she looked in the direction of the bathroom, seeing no light coming out from under the door.  
A few minutes later Emily heard something that reminded her of glass hitting marble without breaking, giggling lowly when she heard her husband angrily mumbling something before he opened the door to their bedroom again.  
Quickly getting back to her former position, she closed her eyes, hoping that he hadn't seen her moving.

Richard closed the bathroom door as quietly as possible, rubbing his elbow, the dull throbbing in it ebbing away only slowly. He wished for a sledgehammer to break in that darn wall he had hit when turning around.  
Silently making his way to his side of the bed, he pulled back the covers, slipped under them and rolled onto his side, looking at his wife's back, watching her even breathing in the pale moonlight. He felt the urge to reach out and touch her, battling with himself for a moment if he should dare try.  
In a way, he was sorry he had snapped at her, on the other hand, he really wanted to keep the mustache.  
She might not be able to see it, but to him it was more than just facial hair.  
If he'd wanted to annoy her or to 'look like someone who's sleeping under a bridge' as she put it, he would just have stopped shaving.  
He hadn't.  
Brushing a hand over it he reassured himself, it was well trimmed.  
Not just some hair on his face, no, it was accurate and in his eyes gave his face an aristocratic touch. He would not shave it off.  
Looking back at her sleeping form, he remembered tonight.  
Richard had been so glad when she had scolded Lorelai for calling him 'Hippie-Lip' and silencing their daughter when she referred to his mustache as a 'soup strainer' amongst other things during their weekly dinner.  
Maybe that was why it had taken him so aback when she suddenly asked him to shave.  
He sighed, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Hearing her turning around he opened his eyes again, surprised to find her looking back at him.  
Richard tried to smile at her but her face showed no emotion, she just kept on staring, her eyes speaking volumes to him.  
He warily reached out his hand and placed it over hers where it lay next to her head; glad when she didn't pull away he gave it a gentle squeeze.  
They kept on looking in each others eyes for a while, not speaking, her hand firmly placed in his. Pulling their hands towards him, he kissed her palm lightly, not breaking eye contact.  
Emily let him kiss her hand but her eyes showed that she felt everything but comfortable with it.  
She watched while he repositioned himself close to the middle of the bed but still on his side of it, opening his arms, a questioning look in his eyes.

She knew that taking his silent invitation would mean the end of the fight they were having. Reconsidering her options, she sighed in defeat, too tired to argue, too headstrong to let it go. She decided to snuggle up to him, but not without making her point clear, "I still hate it," she mumbled when she lay her head on his chest, rubbing her hand soothingly over it while she felt his arms tightening around her.

Emily woke up when she felt him nibbling her neck. She realized that she had turned in his embrace so that he spooned her now, his large hand caressing her thigh while his other arm was wrapped around her. His hand was on her shoulder pressing her back against him.  
Raising her shoulder to shield her neck from him she growled, "Stop that, Richard," pulling away from him, rolling over to her side of the bed.  
She lay on her side; arm tucked under her head, looking at him, "How late is it?"  
Richard rolled onto his back, took a deep breath and turned to look at the alarm clock, then back at his wife, "Quarter to five."  
She groaned, hugged her pillow and closed her eyes again.

"Emmy?" His voice cut through the silence a few minutes later.  
Not opening her eyes she exhaled, "Hmm?" feeling him shifting towards her before his forehead gently touched hers.  
"Can't we just drop this?"  
"Can't you just shave?" she felt him pulling his head away from hers a few inches, opening her eyes to meet his gaze.  
His voice sounded a tad annoyed, "I don't want to."  
Emily shrugged, "Then we can't drop this, because you obviously are out of your right mind." She rolled on her back, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him, "Why can't you just do me that favor?"  
"I want to keep this mustache." He sat up, his eyes meeting hers in the semi darkness of their bedroom.  
"Then you'd better get used to me not letting you kiss me." She huffed, pushed herself up into a sitting position as well, and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes sparkling with anger before she turned her head away from him.

Richard sighed, imitating her position as he leaned against the headboard, staring straight ahead. He was not willing to give in to this. This mustache was some kind of milestone for him, something that made him proud of the man in the mirror. He had established his own business; people looked up to him, asked his advice.  
In Richard's eyes, the mustache made him look heroic and more respected.  
Why couldn't she see it?  
Why couldn't she be happy for him and just let it be?  
He needed to find out, so he tried his luck once more, "Care to tell me why you don't like it?" Not changing his position, he just turned his head towards her, his eyebrows raised.  
Her brow was raised as well when she turned her head in his direction, "You mean except for it looking ridiculous?"  
Richard furrowed his brow for a second, trying to tame his anger. He knew this wouldn't be easy but he needed to get back on good terms with her, even if it was only for a short while, "Yes."

She opened her mouth, taken aback by his short statement. She spat at him and he didn't bite back? Since when did that happen? Shutting her mouth again, she turned her head back, staring blankly ahead, trying hard to think of a punch line to end this discussion. But she couldn't come up with one.  
Seeing him watching her intently out of the corner of her eye, she glared at him, huffing in frustration. In a way, this was silly. So she didn't like it, sure, but why not let him keep this silly thing for a while until someone else would call it ridiculous as well? Emily rolled her eyes, stating the next best thing that came to her mind, "It's scratchy."  
She looked back at him, pouting.  
Richard's voice showed confusion, "Scratchy?"  
Shrugging her slim shoulders, she nodded, "Yes, it hurts when you're kissing me." Maybe that would work. It was grasping at straws, but then, she was tired.  
"It hurts?" he still sounded irritated.  
Shooting him a look, she snapped back, "Yes, it hurts. Are you actually capable of speaking in full sentences or is your mustache affecting your higher brain functions in some way?"  
"Emily, I didn't …" he stopped himself just in time, took a deep breath and mumbled, "I'm sorry, dear."  
She furrowed her brow, "Did you just apologize?"  
"Yes, I did." He looked directly in her eyes.  
"Oh." He really wasn't quite himself tonight. 'Guess he is just trying to get out of this somehow,' she thought. Emily scanned his face for any indications to confirm her suspicion. It was hard to make out his features in the dim moonlight and for a moment she was tempted to turn on her beside lamp. Deciding against it, she slid down on the bed, readjusting the blanket around her, "Well, I guess we can go to sleep then."

Richard rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow he rested his head in his hand, looking down at her, "No, we can't."  
Taking a deep breath, she looked at him, "And why is that?"  
"Because I need to know what I can do to not hurt you with my mustache," before she could say anything he added, "without shaving it off."  
Emily sighed, "I don't know. It's just… Well, last time you kissed me, it made my skin sore."  
"That was days ago."  
"Yes, because I didn't want it to get any worse."  
"That's why you stopped me from touching you?"  
"Well you know what happens when you start touching me."  
He chuckled, "I know, yes. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm rather proud I have that effect on you."  
Despite still being slightly angry with him, she giggled. Smiling up at him, she playfully slapped his arm, "You're bad."  
"In all the good ways." He winked at her, closing the distance between them to place a tender kiss on her lips. To his delight, she didn't pull away.  
Touching her lips with his index finger, he smiled, "Was it that bad?"  
The corner of her lips curled up slightly, "Not that bad."  
"Hmm. May I try again?" his voice was low while he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

Emily smiled, feeling a familiar warmth floating through her body when she nodded.  
Gently touching his lips to hers, he brushed them over her mouth before kissing her lightly. When she didn't pull away, he decided to go a little further, brushing his tongue across her lips, silently asking entrance.  
Opening her mouth, she let him deepen the kiss, distracted by the gentleness of his approach. Their tongues danced around each others for a few moments, before she couldn't ignore the feeling of his mustache on her skin, stinging her like hundreds of little needles whenever he moved his face.  
Putting a hand against his chest, she pushed him away slightly, turning her face away from his, "Ouch."  
"Ouch?"  
The fact that he almost sounded scared made it a little better.  
"Yes, ouch." She looked up at him, slightly sorry for not having better news, "I told you it hurts."  
He sighed, "I would really like to kiss it better, but…"  
"…I don't think that would work." Emily smiled.  
"Yes, I was afraid you'd say that." Richard looked closely at her mouth, even in the dim moonlight he could see the skin irritation his kiss had caused on her cheek.

Gently brushing his fingertips over the reddened part of her face, he furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry."  
She covered his hand with hers, placing a kiss in his palm, "No, I am."  
"Do you think you could get used to it somehow?"  
Giving it a serious thought, she shrugged, "I don't know. I guess you can get used to it… it just takes time."  
She saw how his face lit up when she said that. Maybe she should really let him keep this silly mustache. For whatever reason, it seemed to be more important to him than she had first realized.  
Trying to sound as innocent as possible, he watched the path his index finger made as he brushed it up and down her silk clad arm, "Yes, I guess you're right. It takes time… and…" Richard looked in her eyes, "practice."  
Emily chuckled when she saw how a wide grin started spreading across his face. She looked at him, wondering how any man his age could possibly look so young and boyish when grinning mischievously.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she cupped his cheek with her hand, brushing her thumb over it.  
Slowly closing the distance between them she placed a tender kiss on his mouth, glad when he didn't move. It seemed he really tried to be as careful as possible, holding still so he wouldn't hurt her again. This kiss felt strange, but in a nice way.  
Pursing her lips, she kissed the stubbly thing he seem to be so proud of, trying to get used to the hard edges pushing against her delicate skin.  
The look in his eyes warmed her heart. Kissing his mouth again she felt him deepening the kiss and gave in to his attempt.

Richard ran his hand up and down her arm, letting their kiss become more passionate after a few moments; he pushed his hand against her shoulder, making her roll on her back.  
Hovering over her, he let his hand drop from her shoulder, fondling her breast though the smooth material of her pajamas.  
When he felt her leaning into his touch, he smiled against her lips while he kept on massaging her breast.  
He broke their kiss, looking deep into her eyes before he freed her upper body from its silken cover, placing tender love bites down her neck and up again, tracing her ear with his tongue, his low voice causing her goose bumps, "Let me kiss you just once more and if you don't like it, I'll shave."  
She furrowed her brow when she met his eyes, not quite sure what he was up to. He couldn't have changed his mind this quickly, could he? The mischievous sparkle in his eyes told her he hadn't. Still slightly confused by his offer, she just nodded, "All right."  
It was too easy. He could not possibly let her get away with this. Not after having defended his mustache so hard.

When he just kept on smiling and didn't move, she lifted her head to kiss him but he put a finger to her lips, making her lay her head back on the pillow.  
"I never said I'd kiss your mouth." His grin widened by the appalled look on her face.  
"Richard, you …"  
He hushed her, "You agreed, Emmy."  
"I didn't know you would—"  
"—Oh now, don't look at me like I've never done it before." He winked. She was cute when she was acting prude.  
"You never asked me before you … did it." She felt herself blushing.  
Grinning down at her, he brushed his hand over her abdomen, "But you like it when I do it."  
She couldn't stand his gaze. Looking away for a second she forced herself to look back into his eyes, his boyish grin easing her temper, "I never said I don't."  
"Good." Richard continued tracing the hem of her pajama bottom with his index finger.

"Come on; just make believe I'm Errol Flynn." He winked at her.  
Pretending to pout, she watched his hand as it kept on gliding along her skin, "I doubt I'd let Errol Flynn do something like that to me."  
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I wouldn't want anybody else to 'do something like that' to you anyway."  
She had to laugh at his statement, "Then why did you propose this idea to me?"  
Richard smiled. She looked so beautiful when she smiled like this, it made him want to kiss her.  
But he couldn't. Not if he wanted to make sure he could keep his mustache, "I know you had a thing for him. And since he had a mustache…"  
Her eyes sparkled with laughter while she shook her head, "I did not have a thing for him."  
"Come on, you liked him." He was glad she was playing along.  
"Yes, but I also liked Judy Garland. Does that mean to you that I take a liking in women?" Emily raised one of her slender eyebrows.  
He chuckled lowly, "Hmm, not really. But it's rather hot to think about it that way. … You and Judy Garland."  
"Oh, stop it right there."  
Tucking at her pajama trousers, he grinned at her while he slid lower on the mattress, "Well, if it helps you, think of Judy."  
She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him while he undressed her, "It wouldn't help in any way."  
"What would help then?" he looked up at her from where he lay next to her hip.  
Smiling, she ran her hand through his hair, "Hmm… to just think about how much my husband loves me."

Brushing his hand along the inside of her leg he whispered, "It turns me on to know I'm in your fantasy."  
"I can tell," she teased.  
"If you'd excuse me now," he positioned himself between her legs, grinning up at her, "I have to show my gorgeous wife that being kissed by a man with a mustache can be a very nice experience."  
Emily shook her head, "I can't believe I'm letting you do this."  
"I promise you won't regret it." His shoulders touched the back of her thighs while he lightly brushed his hands over her belly.  
Taking a deep breath she laid back against the pillow, "We'll see."

She didn't like talking about their love making. It was inappropriate and after almost forty years of marriage it was not easy to change but once she felt his tongue on her she forgot what she wanted to tell him.  
Sucking in a deep breath she closed her eyes, enjoying his light caresses, trying not to like it so that he would have to keep his promise and shave.

…she failed.


End file.
